


I could be dancing all night (If you would play)

by Abbie



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Male-Female Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 21:18:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abbie/pseuds/Abbie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy convinces Felicity to go dancing. Her moves on the dance floor are not the only surprising ones that night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I could be dancing all night (If you would play)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ohemgeeitscoley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohemgeeitscoley/gifts).



> First posted on Tumblr in two parts.

Tommy, leaning against the bar at the front of the night’s nameless, anywhere-but-Verdant club, spotted Felicity out on the dance floor, ass and hips shaking and arms over her head. He grinned at the sight of her in her two-inch strappy gold heels and teeny tiny spaghetti strap black dress, hair falling loose from the knot of unstyled curls she’d pinned at the crown of her head before they left her apartment for the evening.

He had to mentally pat himself on the back for refusing to take no for an answer, refusing to let her pout her way out of a night out dancing and convince him to stay home, again, and have a pajama party with good TV, bad movies, and ordered-in Chinese. Not that he didn’t enjoy the hell out of those nights, in their own way, but he was possibly closer to Felicity than anyone else these days, and he was tired of his spectacularly pretty friend wasting her youth on couches and in basements.

Besides, he may not be the _obscenely_ rich party boy of his and Oliver’s wild days, but every now and then the itch to take a turn out on a club floor and lose his mind in the pounding bass, body glitter, and strobing colored lights still tickled through his veins. And if he wasn’t necessarily interested in picking up random college girls to take a tumble with, he _was_ interested in getting Felicity to cut loose, to see her go all out on dress and hair and makeup without a business reason or criminal-adjacent ulterior motives.

And he’d been right to push for it. She may have griped through the wardrobe rifling and eyeliner, may have made reluctant, snarking commentary when they jumped the velvet rope—Tommy didn’t even think she understood that they got in not on his name or recognition of his face, but on the wow factor of her _everything_ tonight—but once she agreed to _try_ to enjoy herself, and realized the night’s DJ actually played decent music, he’d been pleasantly surprised to discover Felicity _really_ loved to dance—and hadn’t had a good excuse in too long.

Well. Looking at the long, athletic expanse of her legs below that shockingly short skirt, he shouldn’t be surprised. The girl could _move_.

Tossing back the shot he’d ordered—his first, actually; he had no intention of getting drunk tonight—Tommy slapped down a twenty and shoved off from the bar, sharking through the press of bodies with practiced ease, already finding the rhythm of the current fast, bouncy song vibrating low in his bones.

He made his way to where Felicity shimmied and bobbed her head, strategically dancing between a gaggle of girlfriends with their backs to her and a couple too engrossed in one another to bother anyone else.

Tommy waited until she turned more to face him, her eyes still closed, bottom lip just tucked under her front teeth, and slid up to her, lightly touching his fingertips to the top of her right hip. Her eyes opened, full of cautious steel—ever on her guard, and he wondered if Ollie and John realized just how much they’d rubbed off on the brains of their operation—before she took in his face and grinned up at him, letting her arms drift down to rest on his shoulders.

Smiling down at her, he took a second to find her rhythm, chin bobbing in time to the music, his hips moving to sway in synchronization with hers, feet adjusting to match her step.

Felicity’s mouth fell open in a laugh he could only barely hear over the music, even this close, and her head tipped back, hair tumbling in fallen curls behind her neck. It was a signal, and he slid a hand around to the small of her back just in time for her to let him take her weight, her arms leaving his shoulders to slide up each other and over her head again as she leaned back at the waist, shoulders rolling in a way that was… really distracting.

Tommy dragged his eyes away from his _best friend’s_ chest with a laugh, yanking Felicity back up close, helping her avoid the bump and grind moving a little too close behind her.

They stepped and swayed for a few moments before Felicity suddenly gave him a wicked smirk, spun to put her back against him, reached behind to grasp his hips and guided them in a sway and _dip_ that had his mouth falling open and an eyebrow climbing high, one of his hands covering hers and the other set on her waist, keeping balance as she directed his body how to move.

When she folded over at the waist to grab her ankles and slide back up, Tommy could do nothing but stand still behind her in awe, hands hovering just to either side of her hips in case he needed to steady or catch her or something. But if anyone was unsteady, it was him, and he had to sternly remind his body that this was _friendly_ , so can the excitement. Even if he was now pretty sure this was all a good indicator that Felicity probably liked to direct in the bedroom, too.

He banished that thought before it could further devolve into speculations about her “moves” in bedroom-like places, and just in time as she snapped back up against his chest, laughing, her hair hitting him across the collarbone like the whip of a silk cord.

Tommy shook his head and wisely stepped back from the closeness of Felicity’s body, taking her hand and twirling her in a tight spin she carried off flawlessly. He then took both her hands and hearkened back to days long past when he’d taken some swing and ragtime or somesuch dance classes on his father’s dime to piss the old man off, drawing on what steps he remembered—from what sessions he’d actually attended. Felicity kept up nicely, and he made a mental note to ask her later where she learned to dance.

They carried on for a handful of songs, Felicity briefly turning away some poor hopeful schmuck who’d thought he could cut in partway through, polite but firm. Finally, sweating and overheated, they tangled fingers and made their way, bouncing still from the high of the music, back to the bar, where Felicity ordered a bottle of water and Tommy warned her she would be sharing.

She greedily gulped half the bottle, then held the perspiring cold of the plastic to the back of her neck and gave him a slitted, miserly mock-glare. He smiled winsomely and looped an arm around her waist, loudly wheedling, “Pleeeaaaase,” before he was close in enough to snag it from her slippery fingers with a triumphant crow.

She stuck her tongue out at him as he downed the remaining water and tossed the empty bottle neatly into a just-visible trash can behind the bar with a cheeky grin.

Felicity shook her head at him, but she was smiling and he knew he was safe. Leaning down to put his mouth next to her ear, their cheeks just brushing, Tommy asked in that low shout one uses in a nightclub, “You wanna dance more or have I used up all my Club Felicity time?”

He pulled back just enough to see her face screw up in indecision, nose wrinkling and mouth pouting in a way that was too adorable _not_ to smile at. Finally, he put his lips back to her ear and asked, “One more dance?”

She nodded, the top of her ear brushing against his smile, and he stepped back and gallantly offered his elbow. Chuckling, she tucked her hand into his arm and pulled close as they threaded their way back to the dance floor.

This time, a little more tired, they kept away from showy dance moves and just let the music flow throw them, her arms looped around his neck and his hands set at the top of her hips. At one point she smirked and got a little fancy with her footwork, challenging him to match her—and he did, until he tripped on his own toes and landed hard against her.

She caught his weight with locked knees and a single step back, arms slipping to hug him around the ribs and head tipping back in laughter as he shouted an apology for his clumsiness into her ear. He grinned and laughed at himself into her shoulder, circling his arms around her waist and squeezing her into a hug.

He was so glad she’d agreed to this tonight; he figured they’d both needed it. With everything they’d been through in the last year and a half, they helped keep each other light, and prop each other up when the world got heavy. And there was just such a simple, sweet joy in holding her small frame against him, even if there was significantly more skin under his hands than was usual in their hugs.

Felicity pulled away and he took a step back, but she slid one hand down from his elbow to take his hand. Leaning back in, she shouted, “Ready to get out of here?”

He lifted her hand and dropped an exaggerated kiss on the back of her wrist. “Lead the way, my fair lady!”

She shook her head at him, smiling, and turned to draw him through the crowd by the hand.

They emerged into the warm, breezy late-spring night, and Tommy relinquished her hand to call for a cab, making exaggerated complaints to Felicity about the criminal lack of waiting taxis at the curb while the phone rang. She teased him good naturedly about rich boy entitlement until the cab arrived, and they mocked each other on the ride in increasingly ridiculous voices until they fell against each other, laughing.

The cabbie shook his head at them in the rearview mirror, no doubt lumping them in with the dozens of other tipsy and silly clubbers he’d be ferrying that night. Tommy kind of wondered if it was possible to be drunk on good company. If that was the case, he might have to hit an AA meeting and introduce himself, “Hello, my name is Tommy and I’m a Felicityholic.”

The thought made him dissolve into more giggles, and he was so helplessly amused he couldn’t even respond to Felicity’s pestering demands to tell her what was so funny. He silenced her with his hands on her ribs, tickling shrieks of laughter from her until the cabbie pulled up outside of Felicity’s building.

Tommy overtipped him apologetically, and Felicity scurried ahead of him inside, Tommy absently watching the fabric of her short skirt ripple and twitch with her movement as he caught up.

They were companionably quiet in the elevator, leaning against each other in the back corner, Felicity’s arm around his waist and his draped over her shoulders.

The elevator released them into Felicity’s hall, and they began walking to the far end, where her apartment was located. It was far from the elevator and stairwell, but it had an excellent corner view.

Hooking her arm through his, Felicity bumped his shoulder with hers and smiled up at him. “Thanks for this, Tommy. I know I was a butt about it earlier, but I really did have a great time. It’s been way too long since I got to dance like that.”

He grinned down at her, pleased. “Thank _you_. I got club fun and eyecandy watching you work your cute little ass out on the floor. I had no idea you had moves like that, Smoak.”

She laughed in a helpless, groaning way, rolling her eyes but smirking at him. “You have no idea _what_ kind of moves I’ve got, Merlyn.” Proving her point, she broke away from him and executed a jaw-dropping spin that took her down the hall right to her door, where she finished low to the ground and facing him one knee bent in front of her, the other leg stretched out long behind her, toes against the floor, right arm parallel to it and her left hand lifted towards him invitingly.

Tommy pulled his eyebrows back down from his hairline and laughed, closing the distance between them and slipping his fingers around hers to haul her up to her feet. “One of these days, Felicity, you are going to tell me the story of how you learned to dance like that.”

Smiling cheekily, she turned away from him to the door, and Tommy couldn’t help but note she fished her house key out of her bra. “Maybe. If you’re lucky.”

The door opened and he followed her inside as she disarmed the alarm system. “Now, if I’m _really_ lucky, you’ll teach me some of those moves.”

Gently kicking the door shut, he took her hand and spun her into him, shuffling his feet in in a hokey, silly way. She tipped her head back, laughing, hands steadying on his hip and his chest. “With that footwork, I’m really not sure there’s any hope for you.”

Tommy tossed his head in mock petulance. “Hey, I’m not that b—”

Felicity shrieked as his foot crossed between her ankles, catching on her heel and sending them both tumbling back against the door. Tommy got his hand behind Felicity’s head just in time to avoid giving her a bad knock, and they slumped there, pressed together, limbs tangled and laughing breathlessly.

"Sorry about that," he chuckled, licking his lips and grinning bashfully down at her. Her eyes twinkled up at him as she smiled, shaking her head, still cupped in his palm. "Maybe I’m not teachable after all."

"Nah," Felicity drawled, tugging playfully on the front of his dark blue button up. "You just need a little extra practice."

He chuckled along with her, but it faded, and they still stood against the door, and it hit Tommy very suddenly like a brick, the way she was pressed so very snugly between the door and his body, her hips slotted right against his, her breasts, when he couldn’t help himself but glance down at them, firmly flattened against his lower chest, very appealingly gathered all together and looking soft. Her legs, long and bare and smooth, were between his, and he became instantly hyperconscious of the heat of her skin through the fabric of his neatly pressed slacks.

Tommy swallowed thickly and brought his gaze back to Felicity’s face, and found her smile had slipped as well, pulled in with her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyelids dropped a little and pupils dark and wide. Tommy curled his hand against the door, the cool wood grain scraping under his fingernails as his lips parted, eyes tracking the damp shine on Felicity’s mouth.

A voice in the back of his mind told him to disentangle, to step back and laugh this off, to get his body under control before something too difficult to play off happened. That Felicity was his _best friend_ outside of Oliver these days, too dear to him to risk on desire.

She was his rock, his solace, his reality check and reminder that, after everything he’d lived through, not only was there still good in the world, there was still good in him, whatever he carried in his father’s blood.

But right now, she was pressed close against him and felt and looked and smelled _amazing_ —and he’d bet his entire trust fund she tasted just as good—and one of her fingers had managed to slip between the buttons of his shirt, the pad of her finger tickling against the hair on his chest, and—

she tilted her head up towards him, neck stretching long and lips parting like a private invitation, and he was undone. He didn’t crash into her—they’d already had their violent tumble into whatever was happening between them when they hit the door—but hesitated just against her mouth before slanting his lips decisively over hers, catching her full lower lip between his and sucking, soothing the light indentations she’d left with her teeth.

Felicity’s head fell back with a sigh, mouth opening against his, coaxing the same from him, and her tongue slipped into his mouth, curling around his like she would teach him a new way to dance. She nipped his bottom lip and he gasped, fingers flexing in her hair.

Her mouth dropped to the hollow of his throat, mapping it with her tongue, latching to his pulse and sucking hard against it, pulling a soft growl from his throat. She sucked again, the press of her lips against his neck curling in a smile as he grunted, hips bucking involuntarily against her.

His hand dropped from the door to grip tightly at her hip, and he kneaded his fingers into the soft flesh under her thin dress as he dipped his head, nudging her with his nose until she looked up and he recaptured her mouth, pouring every ounce of want he hadn’t even realized had been building in him over the course of the night into the press of his lips on hers, kissing her like it was the only thing he wanted to do in the world.

Working with lips and tongue and teeth, he drew a needy sound low from her throat and grinned, until she wrapped an arm around the small of his back and rocked their hips together, reminding him what his mouth should be doing instead of smugly smirking.

Groaning at the rhythm of barely-there pressure Felicity started against him, Tommy reached down, hands briefly cupping her ass and squeezing before sliding down to grip under her thighs. She yelped into his mouth as he hauled her up against him, guiding her legs to wrap around his waist as he carried them out of the entry way and to the nearby roomy couch in her living room.

He sat with her still wrapped around him, her knees finding the cushions to leverage her off of his lap, one hand on his jaw to guide his head back and follow her kiss as she rose over him. His hands slid up her thighs, teasing at the hem of her skirt, still hesitant.

He wasn’t sure if it was his hesitance, or just sudden thought, but she pulled away from him a few inches and he opened his eyes, swallowing hard at her mussed hair, swollen mouth and darkened eyes. She studied his face, wearing an expression he couldn’t quite name, and it buried a seed of questioning and uncertainty in his chest.

Unthinking, his fingers still spread along the tops of her legs, Tommy blurted, “What are we doing, Felicity?”

He regretted it instantly as he felt tension snap down her spine and limbs, freezing her body against him. Her brow furrowed and she frowned, looking a little like she was guarding against a blow. “I don’t know, Tommy. Do you?”

He stared up at her, beautiful and rumpled and every bit as wonderful under his hands as he’d ever imagined, and so, so indescribably important to him. “No,” he answered solemnly. “I don’t.” He felt the slide of her hand on his face and shoulder as she began to pull away, and his fingers flexed around her thighs, stopping her retreat. “But… I have an idea.”

She swallowed, opened her mouth, closed it. She searched his eyes, gnawed her lips, then seemed to come to a decision, her fingernails digging into the muscle of his shoulder through his shirt and her expression smoothing into something at once both decisive and wary. “Is it an idea we should talk about now?” Very deliberately, she leaned down, bringing her lips to the spot just under the hinge of his jaw and pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss. Into his ear, she whispered, “Or in the morning?”

Tommy exhaled in a rush, like the air had been punched out of him. Turning his head to drag his lips along the rim of her ear, he throatily murmured, “Definitely in the morning.”

 


End file.
